


The Hustle

by words_and_scorpion (bluestring14)



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Quintis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestring14/pseuds/words_and_scorpion
Summary: "The first thing I've learned from gambling is that you've got to be smart. Luckily, or not, since there's no such thing as luck, I'm a genius." A Quintis one-shot on what gambling has taught him about life, love, and getting what he wanted - even if it meant giving up gambling itself.





	The Hustle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic for this fandom. I hope you guys like it :)

"The first thing I've learned from gambling is that you've got to be smart. Luckily, or not, since there's no such thing as luck, I'm a genius."

~

Toby's "harmless" vice was that he was an adrenaline junkie. He knew it and he wasn't ashamed of it. At all. 

He found out about it when he decided to break the rules to indefinitely "borrow" Treasure Island from their local library.

It was a hot Friday afternoon and he had dismissed himself early from school. There was nothing to miss anyway from the rest of the subjects that were going to be taught for the rest of the day. Science, math, history - easy. Besides, teachers from those subjects never took a liking to him. Maybe it was because he had the tendency to point out their moments of insecurity when they talked about topics they were uncertain about. It was, again, just as easy - their voice softening and the eyes shifting were the giveaways. And that analysis had come from a kid who hadn't even stepped onto the grounds of Harvard Medical School . . . yet. 

"It's a break," he thought. "For them and for me. They might even appreciate it and not mention it to anyone who should care."

The exact moment was well thought out and planned ahead of time. He chose Fridays because it was the end of the week and normally, people wouldn't prefer to spend their days reminded of work and school. Hot afternoon simply added to the itch that people were feeling. Of course, they wanted to leave early to being their weekend routines - activities that were no doubt, more fun than their weekday routines. 

It was perfect and Toby knew that he had to take advantage. 

Toby raised his head to get a better view of the mahogany double doors. He hastily slid between the gap he made when he opened one of the doors. When he got in, he saw that on his right was the librarian; she was hunched and was staring at the computer. In the span of a minute, she glanced at the clock behind her, twice, sighing every time when she realized that it wasn't time yet. She was, no doubt, itching for the day to end. 

"Maybe I shouldn't do this." A passing thought. 

The carpet beneath his feet felt like quicksand. With every step he took to pass the librarian, his feat became more hesitant to take another step. His heart was sinking deeper from his chest cavity to his toes. Sweat trickled down from the side of his head and he could feel the heat slowly making its way from his face to the rest of his body. 

"Maybe I really shouldn't do this." An intrusive thought. 

But he wanted the book so badly; he wasn't one to give up just like that. As much as his parents love him, they were too pre-occupied to spend the money for something like a book. It wasn't even a book required for school. 

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._ He heart and feet beat in unison. 

There were two ways that he could approach the situation. He could either sneak towards it or confidently stride towards it. 

He chose the latter. 

"I'm just going to borrow a book. Nothing wrong with that."

He cleared his throat ever so slightly and strolled to the end of the room that stretched on and felt like forever to get to. Glancing left and right, he saw the opening between the bookshelves. People were scarce, but people who were actually interested in the books, even more. His legs were getting a bit stiff and his arms were swinging too loosely; his uneasiness was showing. 

But he knew that what he planned to do was a game of confidence. It was about time he learned to win. 

He stopped under the sign that indicated that was in the right section of the library - Classical Literature. The area was humid and smelled like the gym after PE class. Trailing his fingers over the silver embossed letters on faux leather spines, he scouted for his treasure, going deeper and deeper into the library. His call numbers were his coordinates and he was looking for land in a sea of titles. 

"Land Ho!" X marked the spot. 

He gently took out the book, separating it from its peers. The spine was lightly cracked but the binding held its contents well, not planning to let them go anytime soon. The pages were as brown as his father's morning coffee. They were also quite brittle and he had to hold them oh so gently or else they're going to fall like snowflakes onto the ground. And as flipped through the book, the waft of old pages filled his nose. 

"This," he thought, "is the smell of victory."

And as he walked back with his back straight, the book under his arm, and a spring in his step, he knew that he never wanted to forget this feeling. 

~

The first time Toby met the mechanical engineer of Scorpion, it wasn't in a conventional manner. 

He had just arrived at the address given to him a few years ago by a man who saved him from crippling debt and an eventual beating. 

"It's a risk," he thought. 

It was a great risk, in fact, to enter into something which he didn't know. But that's what made it all the more exciting. 

Standing in front of the red metal doorway, he knocked.  _No answer_. He eventually resorted to slamming on the door.  _Still no answer._ He could hear some noise in the garage but deduced it only to 'it sounds like there's a construction going on'; he wasn't a mechanical whiz after all. Tolls couldn't be psychoanalyzed. 

 _Thud. Bump. Creak_. 

The door opened and a petite woman stood in front of him, wearing gloves and smelling like burnt rubber and metal. She had a fighting stance ready; offense was definitely the route she'd probably go to first. She was wearing a gray shirt, jeans, and flannel; she was probably the type to go for comfort over style - not that she looked bad in it anyway. He could even say that she looked beautiful. 

"Hey! What'd you want?"

She shifted into another position. Despite her size, she had her arms opened wide, hands leaning in the doorway, protecting the garage. She was not one to let anyone in that easily and quickly. There's the defense in her. And her eyes -

"Ehem."

"Oh, sorry, how rude of me, Doctor Tobias M. Curtis. Psychiatrist. Harvard trained." He tipped his hat towards her. "In fact, I graduated top of my class, with the highest honors of if you prefer, Latin,  _summa cum laude_."

"Oh, really?" Happy rolled her eyes. 

"Sure did. And, if you must know, I'm also a gambler by trade-"

"-Look, I don't have time to listen to all this crap. What are you doing here?" She raised her eyebrows. 

"Some dude named Walter O'Brien told me to come here a few years ago if I wanted a stable job. He said I'd be part of a team."

She eyed him from his black converse shoes to his favorite fedora.

"Well, here I am. So . . . may I come in?"

"No."

"No?" Toby's voice to a higher pitch. "Oh, oh, I get it now. Walter will help clear the waters. Why don't we just-"

"He's not here. And I don't trust you."

"What have I said or done that would make you  _not_ want to trust me?"

"It's not what you did. It's who you are." She took two steps closer to him. "Gamblers trick people to get more money for themselves. And you're a psychiatrist which means that you know exactly which trick to pull."

They were toe to toe. The woman had a snarl on her face and Toby's Adam apple bobbed up and down in fear. 

"Well, you won't fool me." She had her arms crossed now. "Unless you can prove that Walter  _did_ ask you to join the team, you-"

"Toby." Toby turned around and saw Walter walking towards him. "Hmm, I can safely assume that by you being here, you'll be part of the team?"

Toby nodded and saw Walter's mouth curl upward, forming an almost-smile. 

"Well . . . welcome to Scorpion." Walter waltzed in from behind the slightly confused fedora-wearing man. "Come on, step inside. We have a job and I have the perfect job for you."

Walter was then stopped by the woman who was blocking the doorway. But before she could get a word in, he had already spoken.

"Happy, I see you've met Toby How. . . efficient. Now, we don't have any more time to waste. We have a job to do."

Walter disappeared behind Happy and she stepped aside to let him in. But before she could let Toby in, she had to let her word in, to the new member of the team.

"I don't care if he trusts you.  _I don't._ So you better shape up."

Happy eyed him one more time before turning around and leaving the smell of burnt rubber and metal behind. 

"Challenge accepted."

~

"The second thing you should know about gambling is: know the game and know your odds. Always play where the odds are never stacked up against you."

~

Toby was a risk taker. Sure, probabilities were taken into account. But as long as there was a percentage in his favor, he'd always take the risk. Consequences were also noted. However, the probability of him not doing something because of the consequences is little to none. Learning from experience always triumphed missout out on an experience, and he knew that quite well. 

He knew it when he took the shot of vodka offered to him by his colleagues. The deceivingly innocent drink that filled the shot glass felt like fire down his throat. And yet, he found himself wanting more. Shot after shot of gasoline like substance, of regrets and well-wrought justifications of why he shouldn't down another glass, smoothly ran down his throat. But this was not a night for brans. And Toby knew that. He may be a genius but a man isn't born with and defined by the just the matter in his skull. 

he had taken who-knows-how-many shots and his vision was blurring. The lights from below the balcony, where he and his colleagues sat, bounced around the room - green, blue, yellow, white. This place would've been a haven for people like him - people gossiping, Freudian slips everywhere - human behaviors were right at his fingertips. But no matter how far Toby tried to reach out and touch them, they burst or disappeared like bubbles, too quick for him to have a grasp on them. Behind him, a person vomited. Luckily, the smell of the women dancing around them caught his attention, dragging him away from the sour mix of bad decisions and even worse actions. 

According to his medical books, alcohol intoxication was dangerous. Effects of excessive alcohol intake were drowsiness, nausea, vomiting, blackouts, lowering of body temperature, and so much more that he couldn't recall at the moment. Oddly enough, what's not stated in his medical books, which in his opinion can also prove to be dangerous, was the insane amount of courage that just rushed through his bloodstream. And this insane amount was enough to make him do the insane - like talk to the girl who'd been eyeing him from across the dance floor. 

He knew she had a thing for him - pupils dilated when she looked in his direction were a good enough giveaway. She was his type too. More importantly, she knew and he knew what each other wanted despite the consequences. After all, Las Vegas and mistakes were terms usually associated with each other. So, he took several clumsy steps towards her, hoping that he'd been a bit sober to at least have approached her a bit more gracefully. She, upon seeing him advance, perked up and giggled with her friends. 

"Hello, ladies. Doctor Tobias Curtis. Psychiatrist. Harvard Medical School. Top of the class." Toby's spiel came out effortlessly. 

"Psychiatrist, huh? That means you could read minds right? You could say exactly what I'm thinking of right now." She spoke in a low voice, right by his ear. 

Toby thought that she was absolutely mistaken. But his brain had lost all its urge to correct her because another part of his body had taken control. 

"Well, I'm not a psychiatrist and I totally know what you're thinking of right now." She went in for a kiss. "And it's a good thing you're rugged and cocky or we wouldn't even be having a conversation right now."

Toby nodded quickly, licking his lips in anticipation for a taste sweeter than vodka with a consequence that would linger longer than a hangover. 

"Come on mind reader; let's see how good you are. Maybe you wouldn't even have to read my mind at all."

~

The first time Toby's love for the mechanical engineer was reciprocated, it was after a case. It was a case where he had to save two lives - Walter's and a foreign leader's. 

He knew that balancing life in his hands was not as simple as a game of beginner's blackjack. The probability of them dying was high, and if they weren't treated immediately and properly, death would turn from a probability to a certainty. He knew that. But he was also a genius and member of Team Scorpion. He had handled enough cases to know the odds in desperate situations such as this one. More importantly, he knew that even if the odds were stacked against him, as long as there was one that pointed him saving their lives, he'd always take it. He knew the game better than the other doctor. And thanks to a threat and a shove, he delivered his point across- he never leaves a poker table without getting at least a chip to cash out. 

What he didn't know that was that it was that specific action that got him into the game he wanted to participate - the one that involved him and the mechanical engineer he met by the doorway on his first day at Scorpion. 

That night, Happy took him by the jacket, grabbing handfuls of fabric to pull them close, closer, until his head began spinning at the realization that there was a great lack of space between them. 

He didn't know what to do with his hands at that moment. It had been quite a while since he'd done this. The last one was with Amy, his ex-fiance, but they didn't work out so well. And he didn't want that to happen with him and Happy Quinn; he wanted things to work out between them.

So, he learned how to play the game. 

"Don't talk. Don't ruin it." 

His lips sealed tighter than a cork and a wine bottle. 

Days after, he made a bet with the wonderful lady to take her out on a date. 

It happened while they were flying paper airplanes. With her knowledge of building things and aerodynamics, she was sure she would win the bet that Toby made with her. Toby, on the other hand, was just as confident because it was in his blood to believe in his capabilities of winning a bet. The only thing missing was the paper airplane that proved one of them right and the other, wrong. 

Toby took his time studying Happy as she folded the paper. Her hands were gentle, he thought, but firm in folding the paper airplanes. These weren't like the metal sheets she knew how to handle but she was just as skilled in handling less sturdy material - not that he's surprised at how skilled she was anyway. Her tongue positioned itself by the corner of her lip, curled - a habit he noticed when she was focused on what she's doing. Her eyebrows were knit and her eyes looked at none other than the pages right in front of her. Occasionally though, they'd meet his. 

At some point, he must've looked nervous because her look of concentration shifted into one with a hint of delight, when she caught another glance at him. 

"Is that a look of fear I see?" She joked. 

"No," Toby answered almost too quickly. 

Truth be told, Toby was terrified; he still didn't know how to play his game. And with every moment that passed by, he felt like the chips were being stacked up against him - one after the other, forming columns, and boxing him in. At that moment, to him, there wasn't a possibility of him winning at all. 

Luckily, he was saved by a truck, making the bet null and void. and he was given another chance. 

"I'm willing to make another bet. If I win, you take me to dinner."

"And if I win?"

"I take you."

Several folds of a piece of paper later, without a second glance at where the plane would land, they left - their fingers barely touching in anticipation for what would happen that night. 

~

"The third thing you should know about gambling is that you'll have to deal with consequences. Sometimes, alone. But most of the time, not."

~

"Another pair. Gone." Toby took off his left shoe and raised it, eye level, to inspect it. 

His favorite black and white converse shoes were falling apart in front of him; the soles of his shoes were thin and worn out. In fact, the whole thing was peppered with holes more than the holes in his favorite cheese. But he knew that items come and go; so, sentimentality had to be thrown out the window just as quickly. He was prepared to let go even before his shoes showed signs of deterioration. He wished that the people he owed money to did the same thing and let him go. But they never did. And at the moment, there was only very little that he could do with those people. But his shoes, on the other hand, at least he could fix that in a snap. 

So, that same day, he decided to purchase another pair of reliable shoes. And as he waited for the saleslady to look for a pair of shoes in his size from the stock room, his eyes wandered to the sign that indicated where the running shoes were. Running shoes had thick soles and curved to follow the shape of the foot - both of them meant to give the wearer maximum comfort. He reached out to grab one and weight it in his hand. 

All his life, that's what he'd been doing - running. He ran from the people he owed money to, ran into people he didn't expect would help him, and kept running to catch the woman who was slipping from his fingers. 

He could remember the first time he was chased for several hundred dollars that he owed to someone whom he lost to in a poker game. The man wasn't at all forgiving; he would've asked his people to follow him wherever he'd run away to. 

He had already run several meters for the past few hours that day in an attempt to escape his fate. He gave the boss his payment in crumpled, 20 dollar bills and the boss ordered for his men to beat him up; and just as it was his nature to run, it was in the henchmen's nature to follow their boss' orders. He felt his breath finally catch up to him as well as the physical ache of a body that hadn't run in so long. The boss' men were only a few blocks away and they didn't seem to want to stop anytime soon. When they finally reached him, they took him by the arms, dragged him to a room in the casino, and beat him until he was bleeding and numb. Several tools were brandished in front of him but only a pair of pliers was used. He almost lost five fingers that day. 

"You're going to pay me in crisp hundred dollar bills next time. Put it in a black duffel bag and give it to me, same time, same place where you lost to me. Make sure you've got the right amount or you could say goodbye to your other five fingers. Which will pale in comparison to what we really plan to do to your body before we stuff it into the black duffel bag. You understand?"

"Yes. Yes." 

"Good."

"Excuse me sir." toby was brought out of his thoughts when the woman gave him the box which had the shoes he desired. 

He placed back the shoe he got from the display and proceeded to pay for what he bought. After all, he needed a new pair; there was much running he still needed to do. For one, he still had to prove to his fiancée that he still loved her. And as he walked to the garage, the paper bag swinging beside him, the memory of the post-engagement talk, they had played in his mind. 

“Toby, honey, it’s not that I’m not happy with this.” She fiddled with the engagement ring Toby gave her the night before. “But where did you get the money to afford this? I thought you were up to your knees in debts.”

“Don’t you worry about it-” Toby rubbed her shoulders to calm her down.

“-Don’t worry? Don’t worry! How could I not Toby? I see you coming home, black and blue, bones broken!”

“I’m still in one piece-“ He chuckled.

“That’s not funny.”

“I think it is.”

“Not everything’s a joke, Toby. Not everything should be taken lightly. You’re a psychiatrist. You should know that.”

“I do.”

Amy began pacing back and forth across the bedroom.

“And Toby, we’ve practically been on the run for the past few weeks only because they don’t accept partial payments.”

“They do.” Toby’s voice softened. “Only in crisp hundred dollar bills.”

“I’m tired of living this life, Toby!”

Toby’s shoulders lowered and he avoided meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” That was all he could whisper to her.

She looked at her soon to be husband and saw that he was seated on the edge of the bed, his head down and eyes downcast. She gave him a peck on the cheek and hugged him.

“No, no. I’m sorry Toby. I’m sorry I lost it. I’m so, so sorry.” She placed her head on his shoulder after giving him a peck on the cheek. “Look, I still have some money left in the bank. And before you say anything, I’m your partner and in good and bad situations, I should be there. But please,” she looked into his eyes forcing him to look back into hers, “if you really love me. Please stop gambling.”

He nodded and gave her a reassuring hug, all the while knowing that all that he was doing was simply a bluff.

“Earth to Toby.” Walter snapped his fingers in front of his face a bit too loudly, obviously a bit pissed at the lack of a response from Toby ever since he arrived at the garage.

“Sorry boss. Just thinking.”

“About what?” Walter raised an eyebrow, expecting an answer.

“Nothing.” Toby waved it off

“It’s obviously something, Toby.” Walter crossed his arms. “Look, I get it. We’re all geniuses and all we do is think. But if these thoughts interfere with work, they become dangerous. Our productivity and efficiency will suffer-“

“-Alright Walter. Alright.” Toby raised his hands, signaling him to stop. “Those thoughts are gone. Kaput. Thrown away. What do you need me for?”

Walter eyed Toby before proceeding to give him the job.

Toby flipped through the pages of the job description and glanced at Walter who was still curiously looking at him.

“If there’s anything you need to tell me, Toby-“

“There’s nothing.” Toby took a deep breath in. “Really. Just. Thank you. For having me be part of the team.”

If there’s any reason why Toby’s glad he gambled, it’s this.

~

“Alright team. Good job today. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Walter tucked his laptop under his arm and walked out.

“Good night, everyone.” Sylvester followed suit.

Toby tipped his hat to both of them, lowering his feet from the table. He just received a text message from one of the bookies he owed money to and they were on their way to receive their payment from Toby. Problem was, he didn’t have enough. But he would, as soon as he’d win that night’s poker game for high rollers. And he had to leave immediately if he wanted to make it in time.

“You’re in a rush.” Happy commented, looking up from the project she was working on.

Toby paused from tidying up his workspace. He was contemplating whether or not to answer back. His life versus his potential lover was on the line. No question though, he chose the second one.

“To another poker game?” She stopped. “Or betting session?”

“Depends on which rakes in more money.” He shrugged his shoulders, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“You’re _wasting_ your money.”

“What’s it to you? You don’t care where I go during other nights.” His eyes widened in realization. “Are you actually starting to care about me, Miss Quinn?”

She glared daggers at him before saying, “Fine. Go to your poker game or betting session. Lose. Get beaten up. See if I care.”

“For your information, I never lose and if I hypothetically do, I don’t get-“

“-Yeah.” She sniggered. “Say that to your black eye and broken fingers.”

“How-“

“You’re a horrible liar. Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you didn’t get hurt from just falling down the stairs.” Happy tightened a bolt.

Both of them were silent.

“How much do you need?” Happy asked.

“What?”

“I said, dummy, how much do you need?”

“Happy I-“

“-It’s not your choice to make and more importantly, it’s not for free. I’m just lending you the money so you wouldn’t make an even bigger fool of yourself when you lose all the money you have now, in a hustle. Don’t be stupid, you’ll have to pay me back.”

“And what if I run away to avoid paying you back?”

“I have more toys to play with than all your bookies will ever have. I don’t think I’ll have to explain what I’ll do with them – to you. ” She raised her wrench and smiled. “Now, I don’t want to repeat myself one more time. How much do you need?”

~

“The fifth thing you should know about gambling is that, at some point, life will offer you the biggest gamble in your life. When that time comes, you should make sure, that for that game, you should be the one who comes out triumphant.”

~

“If I answer honestly, are you gonna be mad at me?”

“Listen, stupid – I grew up bouncing from foster family to group home and back again. One thing they all had in common – they all promised they’d be the last one. They all promised stability security and happiness. And today I see someone who has the potential to be unreliable – disappearing back into the marathon of poker games, betting sessions, and bookmobile with a hustle. I cannot have the rug pulled under me again.”

Toby looked at the woman standing in front of him – the woman who was dealt with a difficult hand in life and learned how to play the game albeit always being on the losing end. But in this moment, that didn’t matter at all. Because she knew that all her life, she wasn’t a winner and he was it. He was supposed to be the medal, the trophy, the last chip that she would be able to take home at the end of the day without regrets of how much she lost in the beginning. And she felt like she was losing him because of his gambling.

“I won’t.” He whispered. “I love you.” He said a bit louder. “My gambling . . . it’s a shadow of what it was.”

“Are you kidding? You’ve been betting like crazy. I told you – that’s cause I’m maniacally thrilled about us, and _that_ is how my pathology works out.”

He didn’t expect her to turn and walk away; to watch her slowly slip from his fingers.

“Alright.” He wasn’t going to fold just yet. “Listen. . . . This is easy to fix.”

Toby wasn’t a quitter. But for her, he would.

“I’ve got a 75-dollar scratch-off, a 12-dollar exacta box for 180 bucks, and . . . my picks for the weekend games.”

He watched the paper turned to ash in the vase.

“I swear . . . I’m never gonna gamble again.”

He approached her, just like the first time – full of caution. However, this time, he was certain; he did love her even more than anything else.

“You heard Cabe. People don’t change.”

“I’m not changing. I made one last monster bet. I’m gambling that a skinny, moderately-good-looking pain in a neck like me can land someone like you. It’s the biggest gamble of my life.”

~

“The last thing you should know about gambling is that at some point, you’re going to call ‘all in’ and that would be your last – you may win or you may lose. But when that time comes, make sure that you walk away without regrets feeling like you won.”

~

Two proposals, one failed preparation, and an empty bank account later, they stood in front of each other. They were the last two players of the game – Amy was gone and so was Chet. Their dark pasts were exposed and their chips – their quirks, their oddities, their interests, their hobbies – were laid out on the table.

That night, when they said their ‘I do’s’, Toby slipped the ring onto Happy’s finger, gently, smoothly, like the way he pushed the final stack of chips away during his final game. He held on to her hand, tightly, like the way he did to his lucky card – the queen of hearts. And when Ray finally said his final words, he slipped his hand into his left pocket where the lucky card lay and touched it for the last time saying his final goodbye to gambling, to hustling, in silence; he had a new lucky charm, Happy Quinn- Curtis, the queen of his heart.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

And for once after all these years of losing, getting beaten, and running away - as he looked around to see his friends, his family, his wife – he looked at the cards he was dealt with in life and he felt triumphant. It was then that he knew, that for the rest of his life, this was a feeling he would never want to let go of. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave kudos, any kind of comment (and yes, "ahdlfksafsalfns" is still a comment which I'll appreciate), and constructive criticism :) Thank you for taking the time to read this, love you for that <3
> 
> P.S. Some lines are obtained directly from the series and they do not belong to me :)


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